andsoitgoestoo

Yep. I am. Losing my mind. Interesting times indeed.

Sunday is the packing day. Two of my cousins on my father's side of the family are coming to help. The third has to work. We are not in touch with my mother's side of the family. Well when things were looking bad I called my mother's sister in law. She was glad to hear from me but hasn't been in touch since. I called my cousin who never called me back. But she is a born again christian and never had kids and her husband died a couple of years ago. I was out of town and didn't go to the funeral but sent a card. She was always a cold fish. I called her brother's wife who I used to be friendly with. She was glad to hear from me and made all kinds of promises about visiting, etc. but I haven't heard from her since. I learned that when I had my father's 80th surprise party. She never rsvp'd but sent roses. She is a nut. I sent her a nice note saying thanks but my parents would have rather seen her and their nephew.

Families.

Thursday is moving day. woo hoo. Today we went to Glen Meadows and my father plunked down the money and we got the keys.

I had done a to-scale furniture layout. It really is very small and they need to get rid of a lot. When we went to the apt., I think it sunk in to my father that yes, they are doing this. He is so stuck on how much he likes his apt. now. The biggest thing is the breeze they have. It is nice. I live in a valley and their new apt is in a valley so there is no breeze. But oh well. He said ... I guess I have to learn to like it. ugh. yep.

When we arrived today, they had a mini farmer's market. Well one farmer. But how cool. All the residents coudl come and buy what they want. From very agile to people on those scooters where buying up the stuff. They really try to make it so nice.

My father had to have his physical. They sent someone out to the nursing home to do my mother's. It really was about his mental health. They did the mini mental and some other stuff and he was fine. They wanted to figure out how much home health they will need. My father basically wants none but if I had a 1,000 dollars for every time he has said how worried he is whether he can handle taking care of her once they are there ... I wouldn't have to work for a year. really.

So after we looked over the apt I went and searched for a new dining table for them. Well after I went and picked up Eli's cell phone which needed to be fixed and then to office depot to pay another 100 for school supplies for both the kids, I stopped at a consignment shop but didn't find anything. It is a little too upscale but I have found lots of good stuff there.

Then I went home and got their change of address labels and moving cards printed out. Then I went to Glen Meadows and then after that I went to four other places looking for a table. I finally got lucky at Salvation Army and found the perfect table. Apparently it had just come in that day. What a great feeling.

It is interesting telling Michael this stuff. He knows I am not supposed to lift anything. I had never thought about it but one of the few privileges of being a woman is that I get asked ... would you like help with that. Hell yeah. Whenever I buy a big box of booze, I always get help. I guess they dont' ask guys?

So I told the guy at Salvation Army I needed help. And he said fine and put it all in my car. Hell when I dropped off all the crap in my car from my de-crapping of their apt at Goodwill, I went in and asked if someone could help me. The two chicks at the door looked at me like ... no way bitch ... but a guy said he woudl help.

Hell, they want it, they need to help unload it. I used to have trailer right here that took stuff but someone told me they did away with that.

So okay. Let's see my day. Lots of me time. See next blog about yesterday's stupidity.

So the kids are finally gone and after resting (I am doing great but I am trying to really not overdo it. Or at least rest when I can. )

I go through the bag o crap that my father gave me. Sections of the paper I don't want. Crappy snacks for the kids and the requisite envelope with articles that are cut out for me to read.

Let's see. Most are sutpid. But then there is an op-ed about assisted suicide. Okay. What does that mean? Then there is an article about adhd meds. Yeah. I don't know anythign abut what I am choosing to give my kid.

And then viola. Two articles on gastric bypass surgery.

Okay. My parents used to do this all this time to me. But it had stopped for a while.

What am I supposed to do with this? Fuck you old man. You want me to walk away? You finally fucking need me. You don't see this hurts my feelings? And for your fucking information I don't even qualify. I am not 100 pounds overweight and I have none of the factors like diabetes, etc. You fucking mean old man.

Okay. Well. I don't feel better but this is so not fune.

And so it goes.

wtf? How did that happen?

I feel like it was just yesterday that I put him on the bus for kindergarten.

He was nervous but held it together. We said goodbye and he walked down to the bus stop.

Then I thought, does he have his schedule? He went last week with a friend of his to acclimate to the school again. His friend is more than an airhead than he is and the friend's mother suggested it. After that I never saw the schedule.

Me being me, I had made a copy of his schedule for myself.

Me being me, I had labels in the printer so I printed it on label paper but I still put it up on the bulletin board at command central.

Me being me, I ran my label/copy down to the busstop and viola, he didn't have his schedule! So he had something albeit not the original.

I guess I am still needed. Not the perfect mom but I am not so bad.

And so it goes ...

I decided yesterday that my father needed to move sooner than later. He was spinning out of control. Including calling me to tell me he left church early because he felt weak.

So I have lined up my cousins and we are packing next weekend. I need to call the movers tomorrow and get at day.

I talked to the social worker at the nursing home and they think they can keep my mother long enough until I can move them and get the apt set up.

I am so glad I am feeling better and have help.

It is a gamble given their age and health/mental status. Five years ago woudl have been perfect but there is no looking back.

I give them credit for never giving in, wanting to live no matter what. Me ... I don't think I woudl have the pluck to keep going after all these setbacks.

Unless America gets more socialize there will be no way I can afford retirement or healthcare at their age.

This generation is truly the last hurrah, I do believe that.

And so it goes.

Earlier I was in the basement doing laundry and had a real aha moment.

Today when I sat my father down to basically tell him I am taking over (see another blog) he seemed very relieved.

But he was able to get his digs in a few times including some ornament my mother had given me, I broke (or the kids, I don't remember), I had it on the workbench in my basement to glue but never go to it, my parents took it back, fixed it and kept it. He asked if I had taken and I said yes. And then proceeded to deflate me about how I break things, don't fix them and leave them to get dusty in the basement.

Oh, I am so bad. Of course at the time I was dealing with a psycho partner who did nothing around the house and had two kids and work to contend with ... which they knew and pointed out repeatedly about how hard my life was. But still ... bad on me.

Anyhoo, I looked around the basement tonight which I tried to organize before my surgery in case ... you know ... I didn't make it and others would have to clean it out and my only solace was knowing someone would say ... boy, was she organized.

And then I realized that all these years when I would clean up before my parents came ... just in the hope I would get some sort of ... compliment. No. It was an anxiety-ridden response just hoping I wouldn't get a criticism. May seem like a small revelation but to me it felt big.

How long will I search for parental approval? Well it is mostly gone and my friend Troy tells me I need to respond to my father the same way I do with my mother and realize he is not all there anymore either.

But when someone who never, ever said good job regarding anything can still make you feel like crap ... it still makes you feel like crap.

And so it goes.

- Susan

I really have been thinking about my recent health issue as ... a hysterectomy. Maybe because the bleeding problems I have had for years ... this was always one of the options.

So in my head I have been thinking that it was just the hysto, not that ... I actually had/have cancer.

Denial thy name is Susan.

But if they think they got it all, I am just on a watchful couple of years, then it is like it is gone. Not like others who to do radiation or chemo. Not me. So this shouldn't really bother me. Am I really a cancer survivor? oh gawd. For all the definitions I have for myself, this truly is not something I can wrap my head around.

Then today I went to a church retreat. My first real outing with people. It was great. I love my church and the people in it. They are crazy and opinionated and infuriating and wonderful.

I talked to a woman I don't know that well but really, really like. She was a great support when my mother first started her crisis in March. Her mother has alzheimers. She heard through the grapevine what I was going through and reached out. Wow. That is what a community is about.

I was pretty quiet about what was going on with me. I guess I was embarrassed. I am the caretaker, not the person who gets care. (Because of crises with both kids when they were born, I was never allowed to just it back and heal and enjoy and now with this my parents needs were superceeding mine to the point that I wasn't even 24 hours post surgery when my father was telling me all kinds of shit on the phone about his and my mother's needs when I was on morphine! wah, wah. poor susan. shut up.)

But today I got lots of love and support. And it is stupid because I used to be really critical of the caring committee and then I didn't even allow them to let people know about my surgery. I think I really don't know how to be cared FOR.

Oh, right. So this friend. Hears me out and lets me know she is a breast cancer survivor and says what no one else has said about how I have to have lots of feelings about all this even if the news is good. Wow. What a gift. What a blessing. Yep. I have. And I have pretty much dealt with it alone. But I guess I am not.

I am truly blessed to bring great people into my life.

Wisdom. I think the best part of that is searching out other people who already have it.

And so it goes.

Susan

Welp. I got a call from my father on Friday which I am now interpreting as a plea for help. Not just venting. He can't pack up the apartment. He is also not sleeping and is just spinning out of control. He even told me he peed the bed the night before and that worried him. I am going to call his doc on Monday and see if he can take xanax or a sleeping pill. He will go down before I can even get him moved if he doesn't sleep.

He is still singing the same song about assisted living vs. independent living. I don't know. It is hard to tell. I think that once they get there they could stabilize. My gut tells me independent living . At least for a while. If they do assisted living (two rooms but no kitchen, three meals a day, people pretty bad off as their neighbors) they will be stuck. There won't be any going back. But if in a month they can't do independent living and have to move to assisted living that will mean we lose 45,ooo. It is complicated. But again, it is about their comfort at this point. And I really think they will enjoy having the patio home at least for a while.

I have decided that I need to take control. Luckily I am feeling so much better with so much more energy. Not 100 percent but lots better. And quite frankly I have more energy and am more organized than most people so even not at my best, I figure I can do this.

So, I am going to try and move their stuff within two weeks. So that my mother can move directly from the nursing home to the retirement community. As I told my father, if I have them both underfoot while trying to pack the apt, I will have a nervous breakdown. Between him and my mother's dementia. No way.

This truly is a leap of faith that they can do independent living. A nurse came from Glen Meadows to the nursing home and cleared my mother. The caveat in that is that my father can do the majority of things that need to be done. He keeps saying how he is failing both physically and mentally. The wonderful thing is that there is homecare available and in as small increments as a half hour. If you get homecare at home there is often a 4 hour minimum. I keep telling my father that paying for some care in independent living, even the max 8 hours, is cheaper than being in assisted living. And they have a home, not two rooms. But EVERDAY I have to hear how he is not sure what do to.

I told him on Friday that he doesn't have to do what I suggest, but he can't poo poo everything I say. Which he did when he brought up seeing a lawyer and I said I knew an eldercare lawyer and when he heard $500 for the consult, he flipped saying he is going to use the guy he knows from the VFW. ahhhhhhhh.

So then I called the social worker at the nursing home but she was out on Friday. I will call her on Monday as well as the surgeon to find out what they are thinking about discharge. Oh, in case I didn't mention it, she is off the wound vac. Just doing wound care now. And she is discharged from PT. So the minute they say her wound is healed, she will be out of there.

Hence the urgency. I don't want her in the apt. And I want them both out ASAP. I can pack them for the movers in a day or two I think. My cousins have offered help and I think I will take them up on it.

So I need to go into fast forward mode.

Of course school starts on Monday with new schedules and a kid going to high school and buying stuff and ahhhhhhhhhhhh!

Oh yeah, work. I just need to get the kids and my parents settled. That is the priority. But so is moving on with my life.

But in a way, getting them moved sooner than later will stabilize them so I can focus on my life.

I hated being an only child as a kid. Being adopted, I didn't even care if the kid was a biological kid. I remember asking my mother at some point if she could still have a kid and she said, well, yeah but since she was 40 when I was adopted and had never even been able to get pregnant, not so likely. At that point she was probably heading into menopause. I also begged them to get foster kids. I was always acutely aware of how much I had and that it shoudl be shared. My mother years ago agreed they should have done another kid. Oh well. They said they wanted to give a kid everything, so I have continued to take everything they have. :)

Most of my adulthood I liked it. Thinking I would get all the money and also not have to consult with a sibling about any decisions. Especially since I have seen even when there are siblings it often falls on one child and often a woman. Well. Who knew when I moved back here from NYC in 1987 to be their support that 20 years later I would finally get called into service. And who knew that I might be wishing I had someone else to share the work with. I was going to say burden but that isn't fair. My parents have done so much for me. This is what children are supposed to do.

It is just a shame that the planners that they are ... they didn't plan for this. And now decisions are being made in crisis mode instead of as a plan.

I tried to support them in their choices. When they brought up Oakcrest 10 years ago I supported it. Then they decided instead of that or a condo, that an apt was the answer. Fine. When my ex moved out over five years ago I offered putting an addition on the house. The laughed at me.

My father said yesterday that he just never thought it would come to this. Invincible. That is what both my parents think they are. And for the most part they are. I can't believe my mother has come through these last two injuries. Her dementia is bad. It sucks. I am sad. I will do what I can.

And so it goes.

Welp, it seems like whenever I opt out of a doctor's appointment something happens.

My father took my mother to the surgeon yesterday and he said she no longer needs the wound vac. This according to my father. Now, the surgeon told us last week that it might be 4-6 weeks more. I don't get that. I need to call.

My father then called tonight upset that my mother was no longer getting PT. I said I told him I that her last day was the 21st. He apologized after going on for ten minutes telling me every step of their visit. He said he didn't remember or didn't hear. Wow. I could use that line for ... how many instances?

I really should have called the surgeon and the nursing home/social worker/doctor to find out how long they think it will be that she will need to be there for care of the wound. I just couldn't muster up the energy today. Partly because they could say a week. And then what? I really don't want her going back to the apt. I want her to move directly into Glen Meadows.

Last night when my father was telling me this, he said that she has an appt with the surgeon in two weeks. And he will NOT use the wheelchair van again.

I finally had to be really forceful and say he CANNOT transport her anymore. That the two times she fell he was in his care. He says, I guess it is all my fault. I have tried to not say anything but ... yeah. I said, look, you are not steady on your feet. You cannot do this without me or someone else. Period.

He kept saying how she got to the bathroom on her own after they took the wound vac out. That is very different than foreign places.

He just doesn't get it and I need to be more forceful.

Oh, oh. The nurse practioner from Glen Meadows came and said she could do independent living.

Great!!!!!!!!!!! But I need to have the conversation with my father that their lives, while better than a nursing home/assisted living are going to be very much more limited. No more day trips and dragging my mother here and there. He needs to get her to dinner every day and they can enjoy their nice apt. Period.

He is such a mess. One minute saying how he can't do anything anymore and needs help and the next I can envision my mother and him thinking they can do an overnight to the ocean.

If they make it to the spring I will go with them. But right now it is about a very limited life. But better than many others have.

I see a lot of work in the next few weeks. I want to get them moved. And I need to do what I can to make that as soon as possible so my mother doesn't get involved in the packing. Actually I think she won't care and will just watch me. It is my father who will make me crazy and having time while he is at the nursing home is the only way I can see doing this. ahhhhhhhhh.

Oh lordy.

And so it goes.

So yesterday I had the bright idea to take the kids to lunch and the movies. I really don't do the movies... out with them although we frequently watch movies at home. Michael likes to see most of the movies the kids want to see that in are in theatres so that is good for me.

But I didn't do a vacation with the kids this summer and this being their last week before school I wanted to do a little something special. They really like going out to eat and I do too so it something I try to do at least once a month.

So I wanted to see the Bourne Ultimatum. I have seen the other two movies and while I don't usually like violence, I have liked this series. It got good reviews and was PG 13.

Neither of the kids wanted to see it. Ugh. I said fine, we can see Superbad. It has also gotten good reviews and I told them the plot was based around underage drinkers trying to get alcohol and how that would not be something they could ever do. cough.

Well after a lovely lunch at a too pricey place, we headed for the movies. After the first five minutes I realized that while the clerk said it was okay for kids to see this R rated move with me, it wasn't that bad, this was a big mistake. I cringed when they talked about foot and pee fetishes. I don't know when I learned about this stuff but I don't think I was 11. Maybe I was. But my 11 year old likes to screw with people and that is all I need. Honestly, I don't think he got it though.

My 14 year old pretty quickly made it clear he didn't want to stay for the the movie. He is a real prude. I believe going into high school he was old enough for it but he just didn't like it.

Well, the movie I wanted to see that just had plain old violence was already too far gone so we went in to see the Simpsons and waited until that started.

I was cranky. I have never really watched the Simpsons. But overall it was okay. There were plenty of risque parts in that movie and there were little, little kids in the theatre.

Oh who cares. Society is shot anyway. And we got out of the house.

And so it goes.

Does this ever happen to you? You hear about a birth and a death on the same day?

I just checked my email and my good friend Lisa let me know that her mother died on Saturday. She was in hospice and she knew it was coming but it is still sad. My friend said she died very peacefully with family at her side.

Then I read an email from the husband of a woman I know from church who had a baby on Friday. She had been on bedrest for quite a while but it all worked out including a water birth at home with a midwife and a doula.

The thing that also connects these two events is how they were both done peacefully with forethought and caring people around.

It really is all there is ... isn't it?

And so it goes.

Yesterday I got started on the decrapping/packing of my parents apartment. My friends Cathy and Michael met me there. They both know something about chachkas but there was pretty much nothing of value. So I put them to work. I planned it so my father would be at the nursing home. There is NO WAY I can do this with him there.

I packed up some stuff I will try and sell on ebay. We packed a few boxes that Cathy says we can take to an auction that buys lots of stuff. I mean I am talking cheap shit like glass vases and serving trays.

The rest I threw in trash bags. Tons of baskets, plastic flowers, hand-made items (hon). It felt good to get rid of that stuff because I really hate it. But on the other hand this is how they lived. My mother liked this crap.

She had this little plastic Christmas tree and instead of christmas ornaments she had these hand-made bell things hanging all over it. I got rid of it.

I have to remind myself that for the past year she has not cared about any of it. There is no reason to bring dust collectors to the apartment. I saved stuff, of course. But they will have less room. Oh well, it is done.

I haven't heard from my father so I assume he is a little freaked out. But maybe this will get his butt in gear. He had all these papers in the den, one a folder marked WWII. He says it is breaking his heart to throw away things. He reads it, tosses it and then retrieves it. Ahhhhhhh.

The funniest part was when I had Cathy empty the linen closet. She was screaming because she was scared about what she was finding. A couple of things we really couldn't figure out what they were.

So, now I need to purge the bathroom and kitchen and then it will be ready for actual packing.

The move date is set for October 1. That is just a little over a month away. Should be doable but boy I really overdid it. I was really hurting last night and am hurting right now some too.

I think I will need to take it easy today.

And so it goes ...

I am indeed the dutiful daughter, imperfect but trying.

I saw my mom yesterday and she seemed pretty good. Other than saying she wants to take me and the boys down the shore (a family vacation home that my mother let my uncle have 20 years ago) and how she could sell it but doesn' need the money and she had it appraised for 130,000 (try 1.3 million now ... i could kill her for that) ... she is doing good. looks good. is becoming the belle of the ball there.

I have finally contacted a lawyer to see if there is fodder for a case. It is just so awful that the hematoma turned into such an awful wound. The surgeon says 4-6 weeks more on the wound vac.

My father is indeed losing it. This has just taken such a toll on him. But I think I have carved out a happy medium between letting him vent and not trying to rescue him. First of all, he speaks out of both sides of his mouth (interesting expression, no?) and always has. He says my mother gets on his nerves and he very tired. OTOH, when I suggest he take a day off, he won't and says he gets lonely. It is what it is.

A friend of his from the VFW lives a block from me. He has this big party every year and my parents have gone a couple of times. He has invited me too. He invites everyone and my next door neighbor said he even invites the clerks from the 7-Eleven. So I asked my father if he would like to go and I would go with him. He said he wouldn't have gone without my mother but he would go with me so we are going this afternoon.

I would rather not but I think it would be good for him to get out. I had offered for him to come to lunch last week when the kids were here but he had just made tuna salad. WTF? So rigid. So structured. ugh.

He is becoming so maudlin. And talking about FEELINGS! You may not have noticed but I am all about feelings and it was never something we talked about as a kid. He truly is regressing into a child. I just have to keep an eye on how far it goes before I need to take over completely.

I am feeling better every day but it doesn't take much to poop me out. Michael and I went out for breakfast and I picked up some groceries and had to lay down! My incision is really starting to itch and I am getting these weird creepy crawlies in my abdomen but all in all I think I am doing great.

So I have an hour before I babysit my father at the party so I better get something done.

And so it goes ....

I really thought I updated my blog after my doc appt on Wed. It went well. I was nervous because I still had issues about whether she should have caught this cancer earlier.

So in my direct, mature way, I said ... a number of friends have asked me why you didn't do a biospy earlier. I know. Give me break. Anyhoo. She said that the progesterone had been doing the job and that the cells could have changed recently. Writing it, it still sounds lame but it sounded good at time.

I also asked that if I had gone on the birth control pills she had prescribed in Feb, would that have masked the symptoms and she said, yes, because we would have just thought I didn't have the right dosage and screwed around with that a while.

Oh well. I don't know what the answer is but docs really need to not just write everythign off to perimenopausal stuff.

So because I am an ass, I didn't even know she took my cervix. I said, well I guess I don't need pap smears and she said yes, actually but it will be of the vagina. Also that this kind of cancer if it recurs, it happens quickly in a year or two and if it doesn't then you are good to go. Unlike breast cancer that can recur after 10 years.

It seems I might not need HRT. While she and others keep saying how normally I would still be producing estrogen into my early 50's, it is clear at least to me that I was on the downhill slide to menopause. So the cessation of estrogen producing ovaries might not be as hard on me as it could be. I still have slight hot flashes but not like I did in the hospital.

So it is all good I guess. I felt better about the doc and the situation.

And so it goes ...

I just looked up hysterical on Wikipedia. (I love W btw. My kids poo poo it because they are not allowed to use it for school but I find it an excellent way for me to get quick if not banal information.)

Anyhoo, as interesting as the term hysteria is historically and how it is not PC, I can tell you I was indeed hysterical yesterday. And it was not pretty. (check it out. i had no idea the, ahem, cures, they used to use.)

I surely had reasons for losing it but I kind of think that my recent episode of being flayed open like a fish and gutted and then stitched back ... added to the timbre of the hysteria.

I think I wrote about my father obsessing that he bought $30 worth of pool passes for the kids. But then in past years whenever we went my parents took great pains to sneak them in and most if not all were left anyway. They figured the apt. complex owed them. ugh.

I knew when I did my daily call I would hear how HE wanted the kids to come and swim and about the friggin pool passes. Not whether THEY wanted to but it is all about controlling the kids. Eli didn't want to go. The cement on the sides and floor of the pool are sort of like stucco and he always scrapes himself and last time he scraped himself pretty badly and doesnt' want to go back.

Henry really wanted to go but we couldn't scare up anyone to go with him.

Then my father went on and on about how bad shape he is in and how he made a mistake putting down the deposit and he didn't know what to do and how he can't get anything done because everytime he tries to throw some papers away he starts to read them and then can't bear (bare?) to part with them.

And then he says that maybe he and my mother should move in with me. oh boy. How he would rather pay me $6,000 a month instead of Glen Meadows. Welp, a couple of months ago when I suggested it, I would have jumped at the chance. But now that my mother is worse and I have realized how irrational and mean my father can be, I just don't think it would work.

I did finally mention how when my ex moved out 5 years ago I suggested that we build an addition and have them move in here and they laughed in my face (and that did hurt). He says that five years ago they didn't need it. What, they were going to get younger, not older? And at that point he was 83!

I told him I thought that ship had sailed. He said, yes probably.

Then he said how he can't sleep worrying about me and the boys. And I could tellhe was going to start listing all my failures so I said, please don't do that. You need to be nice to me now and he said I needed to be nice to him for a change. WTF? So I basically hung up on him. Nice. I know. I just said I needed to go, bye. Haven't heard from him since but I am planning on going over there today with the boxes/crates that I ahve been accumulating to help with the move.

Since there was going to be no pool, the kids ended up being vidiots all day and I made the great decision to watch a Lifetime movie about a woman dying of cancer and taking a road trip with her two kids. I think I needed the cry but it was probably not a good decision, you think? :)

However, about every half hour I would put the movie on hold and do some small chore. Dishes. Fold laundry. Minor watering of plants outside and some snipping of plants. Honestly I don't know what else but clearly it was too much or my hormones (or I guess now lack thereof) took over.

I asked Eli to weed wack the patio as chickweed was overtaking it. He was hungry and had to eat before he could possibly do one ounce of work. So I quickly made dinner for him and Henry. He then goes and breaks the week wacker which just sends me into a frenzy. I was yelling and crying about how nothing works. I just hate not being able to do what needs to be done and my garden looks like crap, the zucchini died because of lack of watering. wah. wah.

So I take my sloppy joes upstairs and it is cold and I am crying and the kids come and hug me and Henry heats up my food and they just think I am a real mess.

Oy. Clearly I did overdo it or it was just part of the up and down healing process. I was in a lot of pain last night and had to take a percoset and was bleeding this morning.

Yep. I am pretty sick of all this. Yep.

And so it goes.

Thought you might like to see what my view has been primarily for the last two friggin weeks. When the kids came back on Friday the TV that was in the living room went back down the basement for use with the ubiquitious playstation.

So now when I need to veg in front of the TV I need to be in my room.

Here are my feet, my trying to look over the loveseat at the end of my bed to the TV. I am caught up on Entourage, Big Love, John from Cincinatti, the Closer, Rescue Me, Top Chef, The Parker, Flipping Out and Army Wives.

The kids and I are getting caught up with Eureka, America's Got Talent and Last Comic Standing.

And then what? Oh, right. There is always a woman in peril movie on Lifetime.

And so it goes.

Yesterday was the day. Eli had these, well I wouldn't call them sideburns, patches of long hair on the side of his face.

I asked Michael to teach him how to shave.

So here is virgin baby face and .... I can't believe it. His first shave!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So the kids wanted to go to an end of camp party tonight. It is a bit of a hike and I didn't want to go and surely didn't want to have to transport them both ways. Missy said she would take them but didn't want to bring them home. Natch. My friend Mary who runs the camp said she could find a ride home for them. I just couldn't see asking someone to drive a half hour to pick up my kids a 9pm on a Sat. night.

The kids are supposed to bring a dish to share and what that is is determined by the first letter of their last name. Since my kids are hyphens, I believe they should be considered a C and eventhough I could have gotten away with S/dessert, I felt obligated to bring a ... main dish. (MIssy said she would not do the food, btw)

Ugh.

So I bought a frozen vegetarian lasagna. When Missy came to pick up the kids I opened the oven to take it out. She was in the kitchen and when I said I can't lift it, she said Eli can and walked away. ahahahahahaha. This is just so her in so many ways I had to laugh and after she left Michael and I had a real laugh.

What was wrong with me that I could spend 10 years with someone who has no clue was an idiot she is?

And I think it is kind of funny that while I am recuperating, I am the one providing a casserole. Now don't get me wrong. People offered. It is just that my freezer is full and I didn't have the kids here for over a week and lean cuisine was plenty for me. It is just me. I attract irony.

Oh well.

And so it goes.

I took the kids to breakfast and then the grocery store this morning! Yeah. I threw on the brake and started screaming when we first left and said that I forgot how to drive. Henry thought it was funny. Eli didn't. And there is their distinct personalities in a nutshell.

I felt lightheaded at the diner and it scared me a bit. But I persevered and we got everything done. I am just so tired of being tired!

And I am really pissed that it seems at least for now the bladder sling I had put in a couple of years ago has stopped working and when I said today that I can feel my bladder hanging down into my vagina, Eli happened to hear and I am sure that added a couple years of therapy.

Oh well. At least I can finally laugh and somewhat caugh without fear of splitting open.

And so it goes ...

Welp sitting here still thinking I would be so much happier and motivated if I could just smoke. It couldn't be that I am still sore, thinking my bladder sling surgery got fucked up, that my parents are still in crisis mode, that I haven't worked at somethign that makes me feel good about myself in years, that I am fat and ugly and useless and ... all that reality would just go away with one puff.

You know it just fucking might.

Yesterday Mariananna and I were talking and she was very enthused that I still haven't smoked. I STILL haven't been out the fucking house what with this heat wave. She wanted to know what I was going to use to help me keep not smoking. Hah. You think I am that organized about this? I just thought being on meds and being housebound might be a good time to, ahem, quit.

But actually what I am using are these pictures in my head, like signs. I believe in signs. I believe the universe talks to me. Yes, that's right. Just me.

I have been dicking around with this for so long I really was getting sick of myself. I'd go a day. Then give up. I would ration them, putting 8 in a bad for day one, then 7, etc. Then I would just steal from Michael. Sometimes I would spend the day in bed to get through it.

And then I would get up in the morning to run down to the Farm Store to get my stash. That is always a stressful experience for me because unlike any other area of my life, I try to be in the closet about smoking. I would quickly scan all the cars on the parking lot to make sure no one I knew was there. And if they were I would check out the fat content in potato vs. tortilla chip until they were gone. I mean I talking about Eli's soccer coach from 5 years ago!

I am also tired of being always furtive while driving in my neighborhood so no parents I know would see me. Like this fault would be the one that would make a parent not let their kid play with mine. I am really glad I got the magnetic signs off my car for the decorating but now I just have this ugly car with magnet crap on it. I am now just any ol loser in a beat up car smoking her brains out.

And, I am tired of the kids giving me shit. I know they mean well but when I would get one moment of solitude on the back porch they would inevitablly have to ask me something and then make a bunch of noise about the smell or even something less annoying like me dying.

I am tired of say going on a field trip with school and by the time we got home I was such a raving bitch for not smoking all day. That I really hate.

I am tired of being in complete and total denial about what a stupid thing it is.

Okay and like I said I believe in signs.

My first recent one was when my mother was at Stella Maris. I took her in the wheelchair out on the grounds and we sat there. There was patient, a man in probably his late 50's who seemed paralyzed from the neck down. His wife/SO and he sat there smoking the whole time. She would put the cigarette up to his mouth and he would take a puff. It seemed like that was probably his only enjoyment and it was something he couldn't even do himself anymore. Now he may have been in a car accident but more likely it was a stroke or heart attack. Well, you know what. I would probably smoke too at that point.

My next sign was when I was in my stealth mode at the Farm Store. A guy was in line with had a trach tube. One of those where you can put your finger over the tube and talk because he did ask some woman about the icecream she was buying.

I thought to myself, I bet he is going to buy cigarettes and damned if he didn't. I did too but I oh so very ashamed of myself.

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I can't get these pics out of my head but I think that is good.

I need more visual cues though so I just went and looked at some oral cancer photos. Here is the URL if you are as sick as me. http://www.entusa.com/oral_photos.htm

I just wish I had never started. I remember the day. I was 24 and helping run a new wave disco night at a local club. I had a band that I had worked with doing publicity for them and I was nervous as hell and I just asked someone to give me one. And the rest was history. I was a late bloomer when it came to smoking but it stuck.

I did stop when I was pregnant both times. I know it can be done for the greater good of someone else. I guess I haven't have never felt that I could possibly be the greater good.

Could it be at 46 I am finally seeing that if I come last whether it is exercise, having fun, down time, etc. that there isn't as good stuff left for the kids and my parents and my dear, dear friends? Oh this sounds like a 5 minute story on the Today Show. Middle aged woman gets cancer, gets cured. Life changes dramatically. blah. blah.

I do so hope this time it is going to work. I don't feel like it is that dramatic since I have been fucking around with this dx for two months now. I have been chest xrayed and cat scanned and scraped and proded so much that I feel like my health is pretty good right now. I mean they didn't seem to be able to find anything else. Does this mean I should just carry on ... hey smoking ain't gonna hurt me now or should I try and make some changes? You know how you hear these stories of get their lives together and then boom, dead from a heart attack. That surely would be my luck if my luck lately is any indication.

I am awful with team support, support groups, people offering to help me. I don't want to hear ...keep up the good work. I just want this to be a year from now and I am through the worst of it.

I know I need to do this on my own, for myself.

First step will be liking myself enough to think I doing this is, like the Loreal chick, because I am worth it.

And so it goes.

Yesterday, Tuesday, I felt worse than I have the whole time since the surgery. I had little pain when not moving from the get go. They ask you on a scale of 1 to 10 and I was like a 2 in bed and a 9 when trying to get in or out of bed. I hear now I would have gotten more morphine if I had just said I was in oh so much pain. :)

Welp yesterday morning when I got up I had terrible cramps and everything ached. All day I felt like shit. Finally around 4 I took my temperature and I had a small one. 100.4 Not much but my body temperature is normally around 97 ish so it is a little high for me. I called the doc. She ordered me Cipro. Michael went and got it along with my prozac and xanax refills. Aren't I just the very merry model of a mentally healthy mo ...th ...er.

Anyhoo. I felt better pretty quickly and then the fever broke. I felt great. But then last night I was having gas/cramps all night so I took a nap this morning. And this was after coffee. (well my version of 80% decaf but that usually is enough to wire me for the day.)

I woke up in tremendous, yell out loud pain. I had to pee. And I couldn't get up off the sofa. No bending at the waist. f...k. so I did what I had to do and let's just say I have some laundry to do.

I really feel this pressure/pain is from my bladder sling. It is the same kind of pressure I had when I first got it. Thing is there are less organs to be leaning on my bladder but I guess it is all part of this healing process. Needless to say I am getting really antsy.

I also think the infection is related to the catheter because my incision looks fine. Well. Not fine but ...

oh well. hopefully tomorrow after a couple of doses of Cipro I will feel a lot, lot better.

And so it goes ...

Welp I thought I had been having hot flashes but they were nothing compared to this. I am talking bed soaking sweats. They started in the hospital.

Doc says she willl give me a patch.

This is such a fucking nightmare ... this hormone replacement shit. What are we supposed to do when there is new info every week.

And surplus estrogen is thought to be a cause of the endometrial cancer.

And so it goes ....

In my infinte wisdom I decided to stop smoking during this. Yes it makes sense. No one will bring me ciggies cuz I told them what I was doing. Although last night I told Michael I was going to go through his car. At this point it is totally in my mind, not physical.

I think it would be easier if I could start walking, etc. so that I saw the reason for this ... getting healthy.

I just want one. But I know that is the addict talking.

ack.

Okay am I am wimp or what but I am still .... in pain!

I know they cut me sideways and pulled out a couple of organs which my gyn was so gracious to demonstrate how my uterus was small (they are used to fibroids i guess) and she had to pull it out and then the ovaries and then to go up and find the pelvic lymph nodes (why she didn;t know ahead of time what then oncologist would want because he had to get to my them) but .... ouch!

I have like no to little pain lying down but boy when I try to get up or lay down. Ouch!

The other day I got up enough nerve to look and it was pretty much just a lot of bruising. Now I have felt the incision and on side is hotter than the other and hurts more.

It is getting better but I just want it gone. Okay?

Boy, you know I am down for the count if I am not blogging! I can't believe today is Saturday already.

Let's see the operation on MONDAY went well. I am so glad Cathy took me and stayed with me while waiting in the packed waiting room. I think all operations should be done at the crack of dawn because yes I was a little hungry but I would have literally killed for a diet coke. I was so dehydrated by the time they took me in around Noon.

It is hard to be pleasant when you have been asked the same damn questions by a couple of nurses, the anethesiologist, the nurse anesthetist, etc. I don't remember even going into the operating room so that valium did the trick.

The doc talked to Cathy after the operation and said everything went well. Two hours later no one had come and told her anything so she finally said she wanted to come in recovery to see me. Apparently I wasn't waking up very well. Welp. I likes my sleep. Then I was very dehydrated and wasn't peeing and so they checked my hematocrit to make sure I wasn't bleeding internally but that was fine.

I finally got to my room and was pretty out of it. Cathy did some phoning. Oh, she dialed my father and told him who she was and put me on. Well apparently my mother has been having the nurse call my father every night because she is crying that he never visits her. He is there everyday. ugh. So my father says I sounded tired, and I was like duh, and he said well get some sleep because you have a doctor's appt and I was like Dad ... this is Susan! Oh my god.

The first night I was pretty awake I guess because of all the sleep I had had before. They got me up at 5 am to sit in a chair that was hell getting in and out of and they had me in these stockings and these wraps that moved my legs so I wouldn't throw a clot. I found them oddly reassuring.

The nursing staff was great and I had no compunction to call whenever I needed something and even when I didn't. I kept pushing that button instead of the TV. Oops sorry.

I don't know why I was so anxious to get the catheter out because that meant I had to get to the bathroom and boy oh boy that hurt! Sometimes I was able to get back in bed but most times I had to get help. Ouch!

Residents and med students came and went. They all were impressed with my incision. She used subcutaneous stitching and glue so there was no dressing. Matter of fact at first they coudlnt' find it because it was under my fat roll/baby pooch. I finally looked at it yesterday. Troy kept asking if I had looked at it and I said no. But I finally did and all I saw was bruising. Made me kind of sick.

So my doc said she would come by after work on Tuesday and if all was okay I would be dischraged. WTF? I really wanted another night and she didnt' get there until after 7 and I said I didn't want to go home and she said fine but they will want me out by 9. I was like fine. I was up and dressed at 6:30 a.m.

Michael went to work after he came and got me. I took one look at the stairs and was glad he made up the sofa. I slept all day. Matter of fact that is all I have done for the last few days. I don't know how people function on this shit - percocet. I guess you get used to it.

Anyhoo, every day I feel a little better. The only major pain I have is when I move or have gas. I know. Pretty. But let me tell you I have ... gas... I have to do that panting one does when in labor to get through it.

When she said take a week and do NOTHING, she meant it. I wish she had talked to my father. He was here yesterday. I tried to get him to come today when the kids would be here. Oh yeah, the kids are here. Missy had to work today because she took off a day when Camille had a root canal. Nice timing. Eli did need to cut the grass and Henry could do some chores so I said they could come here. A week. That is all i asked!

So, yeah, my father says he has something he wants to talk to me about when the kids aren't around. I should have said ... can't this wait just one fucking week? Oh and he had called me on Tuesday less than 24 hours after my operation to complain about having to use the wheelchair van for my mother's appt that day and how next week if I could just come and not do anything he wanted to try and take her. I basically hung up on him in the hospital. ahhhhhhhh.

No, there was nothing new. It was the same old shit he has been saying over and over again about how my mother isn't getting any better, that he doesn't think he can help her so they can't be independent living, he wishes it was different, blah, blah.

Me - for the umpteenth time -- you can get your deposit back or transfer it to assisted living. We can't do anythign at the moment. ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

What am I supposed to do? I am lying here trying to get better for all the people who depend on me. Back off old man. Pathetic. I was thinking today that that is the word for him ... pathetic. And what was even scarier was he brought me a container of grapes like he does for my mother every day and he kissed me on the lips goodbye. Now they do that hello and goodbye but he hasn't kissed me ... ever. I will sometimes kiss him on the cheek but I have to go to him and he just stands there. He is the same with the kids. Ugh. It really freaked me out.

Oh well. Like I said the kids are here. Fighting over who is going to do what chore. I am directing them from the sofa. Michael was smart and bugged out. He has been great. He is kind and generous. I just gotta be patient as everything has a theory and the way I do things apparently could be improved.

I haven't yelled ... just give it to me how I want it ... yet. Amazing since I have used this time to try and stop smoking. My doc said I could take xanax along with the percocet and I ahve a few times. I really, really want this to be it. This to be my turning point to lead a healthier lifestyle. It would be so easy to go back to the way things were. Me being inactive, using smoking to deal with stress. That is my worry. Because the next few months getting my parents moved is going to be a bitch and having smoking to rely on would be nice. We'll see.

Oh, the doc called last night and the biopsy of the lymph nodes came back good. They did find a tumor on the uterus but it had not grown through the muscle.

I am debating whether I am going to find another gyn. Because after years of these bleeding episodes, one of her things was to put me on birth control pills. I still have them. I never started them because I was smoking. That could have masked this and it could have gone past stage 1.

Everyone says what a hero she is. No, I was the one who insisted on the ablation knowing I couldn't take this bleeding anymore. The biopsy was part of the ablation. What do you think?

And so it goes ....